


Sapphire and Gold

by ScarletEyesInTheNight123456789



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:35:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletEyesInTheNight123456789/pseuds/ScarletEyesInTheNight123456789
Summary: Hisoka, the newest member of the Troupe, infuriates Machi to no end. To appease him, she has no choice but to go on a date with him.
Relationships: Hisoka/Machi (Hunter X Hunter)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51
Collections: Hunter x Hunter, Romance Fanfics





	Sapphire and Gold

At seven years old, Machi is more than well versed in the art of lies. Playful fibs punctuated with giggles. Serious untruths delivered with a stone cold gaze. Pretty white lies decorated with a shrug.

“We’re safe now,” Machi utters the false words with certainty, hoping that the dark-haired boy beside her will respond.

But he doesn’t. Nine-year-old Chrollo has not spoken in weeks, not since that incident. She watches his reflection in the ashen window of the rundown shack they have found, stays perfectly still as he brushes the knots out of her pink hair. His silky black tresses fall into his eyes, and his white button-down is covered in ashes after fighting and running away from their pursuers. His fingers are quick and precise as he braids a black ribbon into her hair, so accustomed to parenting his neglected friends that it is second nature to him.

“Thanks, Chrollo,” she says when he finishes. She turns around on the stool to face him. He looks out of the window, contemplating the falling snow, his expression unreadable. “It’s Christmas Eve, isn’t it?” 

Some warmth flickers into his dark irises at her question, and something faintly resembling a smile caresses his lips. He nods, and his expression grows blank once more.

Tears well up in her throat. She stands up and hugs Chrollo, wondering if he will ever speak to anyone again. She breathes in the scent of fresh grass that still hasn’t left him, basks in how warm he is despite the cold, feels him freeze at her touch before relaxing into it.

She pulls away, and there is no need for lies this time. “I’ll make everything better.”

***

She reaches the outskirts of Meteor City, trudging through snow for what feels like forever until she reaches the town.

She made promises to herself, promises to steal and to beg if it meant that Chrollo would have a present this Christmas. _A coat_ , she thinks. _A coat would be perfect._

But she is shivering too much. Far too much. She collapses, numbness cascading over her, her eyes falling shut. She sinks into the freshly fallen snow, no passersby bothering to stop and help one of _those_ children from _that_ city. She accepts defeat shortly before falling into a deep sleep.

It seems like hours later when she hears a boy’s voice. He feels the pulse on her wrist before saying, “I guess you aren’t dead then.”

He picks her up with ease. He must be older than her if he’s able to do that. He must even be older than Chrollo, and stronger too.

Soon enough, warm air hits her. She shivers violently on a bench, sensation returning to her limbs, and hears voices echoing off the walls. 

She finally opens her eyes to see clothing on racks, employees bustling around, and signs describing sales and discounts. 

“A t-shirt and shorts aren’t going to cut it in this weather. Don’t you know that?” She turns her head to see her savior rolling his eyes, sounding bored. His hair is a shade of midnight and slicked back, his face is even more defined than Chrollo’s, and his clothes are nicer than anything she’s ever seen. A deep red coat made of velvet, opened just enough to reveal a cream-colored sweater and jeans with not even one tear or wrinkle.

“How old are you? Who are you?” she asks in weak rasps.

He smiles with faint amusement, standing opposite her. “I’m eleven. As for who I am, I’m the person who just saved you from an untimely death.”

She frowns, suddenly irked. “But what’s your _name_?”

“Hisoka.” He says his name quietly, frowning slightly. “Hisoka Morow.” A dark look passes over his features as he utters his last name, and she shivers.

He hands her hundreds of dollars and ignores her protests.

“Just take it, Machi. I don’t need it.” 

How does he know her name? 

But before she can ask, he is already gone.

***

_Fifteen years later_

Machi feels a headache coming on as she presses the phone to her ear. Dealing with that butler, Gotoh, was irritating enough, and she isn’t exactly great with children either. “Listen, kid. I’ve told you three times already that I’m not a telemarketer. Now, put your brother on the phone. He’s apparently associated with the guy we’re trying to track down, so he’s our only hope.” 

“. . . I don’t know what you just said, but okay. Hold on a second. ILLUMI! THERE’S SOME WOMAN ON THE PHONE WHO WANTS TO TALK TO YOU! Hurry, this might be your only shot at -“

A series of muffled thuds ensue, and then a deadpan voice runs chills down her spine. “I apologize. That was my brother, Killua - he’s ten years old and still very immature. Anyways, I’m guessing you are a member of the Phantom Troupe and would like to know where Hisoka is. He has actually left a message for me to pass on to you.” He pauses before saying his next words somewhat reluctantly (although it’s difficult to tell with that robotic voice of his). “He wants you to know that his phone number is -“

Machi listens to him say the phone number, her blood pressure skyrocketing. 

“Would you like me to repeat that, Miss? Do you have a pen?”

Oh yes, she has a pen. But unfortunately, she’s just snapped it in half.

***

Machi takes a deep breath. Her comrades laugh and chatter in the other room while she barricades herself in Chrollo’s study. She walks around, tracing the spines of the thick tomes lining the shelves, working up the nerve to dial Hisoka’s number.

She isn’t afraid of Hisoka, exactly. No, of course not. But after meeting him twice already, she can tell that he is unpredictable. Dangerous. Always alert for signs of weakness, despite his nonchalant demeanor. 

He answers after the second ring. “This must be Machi, is it not?” His voice captures her attention in the same way that children are enraptured by nursery rhymes. Hisoka’s voice is distinctive - relaxing in the most deceptive way, filled with soft shushing sounds, each word uttered with a sensual undertone.

“How did you know it was me?” She knows her face must be formed into a pout at the moment, and that Hisoka must be able to sense it, for he laughs knowingly. 

“Dear Machi, who else would have the patience to track me down?”

Ah, yes. About that . . . “Why the hell didn’t you just give us your number yourself? Do you think this is funny?”

His deep chuckle hits her. “You haven’t caught on yet, have you?”

“Caught on to what, exactly?”

His voice lowers, and as he says his next words, she imagines him gazing into her eyes with the hint of a playful smirk on his lips. “To the fact that I am playing hard to get.”

She blinks, going completely still, the phone loosely pressed to her ear. A shiver glides through her veins, but she shakes it off. “Enough of this nonsense already. Danchou wants me to meet with you in person.”

“Mmm. I look forward to it. May I suggest a place to meet?” 

“Absolutely not. Just come to the base -“

“The base? Oh goodness. There is no way we could meet _there_.” More shivers dance up her spine, his voice like warm honey as he teases her. “Let’s meet somewhere nice.”

She ends the call right there and storms out of the room.

***

Danchou sympathizes with her, but tells her to keep trying. Her cell phone buzzes with a new text every hour, but she does not bother to check it.

Even though she does her best to play cards with Phinks and Pakunoda, to joke around with them and not let her mind wander to Hisoka, thoughts of him still infiltrate her mind.

She wonders if he remembers the time he saved her when they were children. She wonders why he did not try to flirt with her when he introduced himself to the Troupe last week. Ah, but perhaps he had been “playing hard to get.” 

But there is no room for romance in her heart. And even if there were, any sane person can tell that pursuing Hisoka would be a death wish.

“Machi?” She looks up to see Phinks laying down a card, his eyebrow raised. “That’s definitely not an expression I’ve seen on you before.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re right, Phinks,” Pakunoda agrees with a mischievous smile. “Machi seems to be daydreaming about someone. Well, don’t be shy - tell us who it is.”

“What - ?” Machi crosses her arms, her aura flaring. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

At that moment, the doorbell rings, saving Machi from further embarrassment. “I’ll get that.” 

She doesn’t get far before she feels his aura. It caresses hers, alight with a playful energy that contrasts with her more stern, irritable one. 

When she opens the door, Hisoka is there, his lips curved ever so slightly. It’s the type of smile that brags, _I know something that you don’t_. In other words, it’s the kind of smile that infuriates her to no end.

She takes in his outfit with disbelief. Instead of a mishmash of every color imaginable, he’s donned a silky black jacket and dress pants. The jacket is casually unbuttoned, with a white shirt and magenta tie underneath. He tilts his head to the side, speaking in the same mocking way he always does. “You didn’t answer my messages. Is everything okay, Machi?” 

And then she notices what’s in his hands: a bouquet of daisies that are as colorful as Hisoka’s personality. Sunset orange, vibrant pink, a sultry red. 

She feels Pakunoda’s elegant aura and Phinks’s more explosive one further down the hall. They must be peeking around the corner, still just as nosy as when they were children.

“What’s all of this about?” Machi crosses her arms. “Danchou just needs me to give you something -“

This clearly sparks Hisoka’s interest, judging by the way his golden eyes light up. “A present?”

***

Machi has no idea how it happened. How she has ended up in her room, dusting silver eyeshadow over her lids and twisting her hair into a knot, is beyond her.

Phinks leans against the wall next to her dresser, wearing a truly puzzled expression. “You’re going through with this?”

“What choice do I have?” she snaps, tossing her kohl liner into a bin. “He insists. And if this is the only way to get him to take the gift, then I’ll do it.”

Phinks sighs in frustration, running a hand through his blond hair. “All this is really important to Danchou, isn’t it? Building camaraderie . . .” His mutters trail off.

Machi finally stands up, smoothing out her black satin dress. “What did Danchou get him, anyways? Should we take a look?”

She digs around the bag, pulling out the tissue paper to reveal a bottle of red wine with a red-and-green bow tied around it.

***

When Machi returns, Hisoka is waiting for her.

Why does she feel the need to catch her breath as she studies his face, taking in every detail? The angular features and strong jawline, the red hair that’s been slicked back, the neon yellow star painted on his left cheek. 

He extends an arm, and she glares at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

He complies, his arm returning to his side as his eyes roam over her. Her skin inexplicably heats up as they cross the busy road. “Why did you agree to come along with me?” The way he asks makes her feel like she’s being questioned, like he already knows the answer.

“Danchou is a firm believer in establishing camaraderie with new members.” She’s heard the words so many times that they spring readily to her lips, although they don’t sound nearly as eloquent coming from her.

Their hands accidentally brush as they make their way across the crowded sidewalk, taxi horns beeping and cars zooming past them. The afternoon sun highlights Hisoka’s smile, the one that’s ever present no matter what the occasion. “Yes, but what’s the real reason?”

Machi stops walking, nearly bumping into passersby. “Excuse me?”

“You could have easily refused if my offer was so unappealing. But you chose not to.” They’ve reached the front of the fancy restaurant, their reflections shining back at them in the glass doors. Machi’s cold blue eyes stare back at herself. She sees Hisoka looking at her in the reflection, and she turns to face him. 

Something wild, yet intoxicating, stirs in his eyes. He’s so close to her that his heady cologne rushes through her senses. “No need to play coy,” he says softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He rests a hand on her cheek delicately, and she’s frozen. “It’s obvious what’s on your mind when you look at me like that.” 

Her breathing quickens. She walks forward through the doors, shrugging off his touch, and he follows with a chuckle.

When they are seated at a table in their own private room, Machi cups her face in her hand, flicking through the menu, determined to look anywhere but at Hisoka. For once in her life, she has nothing to say, and it disorients her. Her heart beats uncontrollably, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Hisoka can hear it. She feels him delivering red hot glances her way every so often as he looks through his own menu, making comments that she only half registers.

“What would you say if I suggested that we only order dessert?”

Machi clenches a fist, scowling. “I would say that I don’t care.” 

“So you have a sweet tooth as well. How fascinating to hear.” She looks up to see him rest his chin in his palm, examining her like she’s a rare specimen. “I enjoy getting to know you better, Machi. I’m sure Danchou would be pleased to see the progress we’re making with, as you put it, building camaraderie.”

“What do you want?” Machi asks bluntly. Her eyes cut into his with a vicious edge, but it only seems to make him even more amused.

Hisoka’s smirk dissolves into a smoldering fire, and against her will, Machi feels sensations she shouldn’t. Hisoka surely knows what he’s doing to her, what thoughts he’s causing to weave through her mind. 

And that answers her question. “You want a distraction.”

What happens next is so subtle that she nearly misses it. His mouth shifts ever so slightly to indicate displeasure before reverting back to the usual calm smirk. “You’re different from the others.”

Her eyes widen. Hisoka knows so much about her, saying aloud all the things that she has never been able to articulate herself. “How so?”

“You put up with me willingly. And you have plenty more secrets.” In response to her questioning look, he elaborates. “Quiet people are always the most intriguing. They have the most layers to unravel.”

And then it hits Machi. “You want to know my nen ability.” 

Desire fills his face, and his aura prickles away at hers like static electricity. “Oh, Machi,” he pants, closing his eyes and opening them up again. “Intelligence is such a delectable quality in a woman.”

“I’m not some toy you can play with,” she says, biting her lip, feeling unsettled.

Before Hisoka can answer, the waitress arrives. He orders a cheesecake for the two of them to share, looking at the waitress with the sort of boredom that he’s never once directed towards Machi.

When she leaves, Hisoka speaks again. “You said you have a present for me.”

Machi has spent her entire life avoiding danger. But here she is in a closed room with an unknown variable known as Hisoka Morow. “Merry Christmas, I guess.”

She hands him the bag, and he pulls out the wine bottle with interest. He pours some into a glass and slides it to her. “Would you like some?” 

She purses her lips and looks away, feeling her face heat up.

“Hmm. Could it be that you’ve never had alcohol before?”

Her eyes dart to the floor, which gives her away. Hisoka laughs. He has such a beautiful laugh for someone who shouldn’t. “I shudder to think what else you’ve never done.”

“Don’t taunt me.”

“Not taunting. Merely observing.” He brings the glass to his lips, blood red liquid seeping past them. “I’m certain that we have ten minutes before our waitress returns. That’s plenty of time for you to experiment.” He eyes the satin fabric adorning her.

“Experiment?” She blushes even further when she realizes just what he means. “You think this is how you’re going to convince me to tell you what my ability is?”

She stands up to leave, but Hisoka is quicker. He loosely grabs her wrist, and she threatens him. “I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

“Such lies, Machi. I see the way you steal glances at me when you don’t think I’m looking.” He’s so close. _So_ close. He’s warm, and his gaze is so much more piercing from this angle, with him looking down at her. He towers over her, fingers skimming the dress’s neckline, and she may as well be engulfed in scorching flames. “Your heart is beating so fast.” He spreads his fingers, laying his palm flat over her heart. She sucks in a breath, causing Hisoka’s deep laugh to ring. 

“Don’t you think,” he whispers into her ear, “that you would have left by now if you didn’t like what I was doing?” Smooth lips brush her neck. “Tell me to stop. Go ahead.” 

She feels him smile wickedly against her neck. He pulls away, a finger tracing her ribcage. Her breaths all come out just as unevenly as her erratic heartbeats. 

“You’ve never done anything like this before.” He speaks with such certainty that she can almost believe he is a mind-reader. “Perhaps you’ve been too afraid of being hurt by the world again.” Is he referring to that day, or just going off of his general knowledge that the Troupe is from Meteor City?

“Do you remember the day you saved me when we were children?” she says through gasps as Hisoka backs her up against the table, a hand racing up her thigh, a throbbing hardness pressed against the other one.

It is then that he gives her the strangest glare. It’s the kind of look she imagines he wears when hunting down his prey, the kind of look that forebodes danger. _If you want to survive, don’t talk to me about the past_ , his eyes read. Hisoka is clearly someone who rejects his childhood, welcomes not even the slightest mention of it. One slip-up, and she’ll end up dead in his arms.

For the first time in her life, danger feels exhilarating. 

Hisoka clears off the table in a few simple swipes. The wine bottle shatters, exploding in crimson over the white carpet. Before she knows what’s happening, Hisoka has already shoved her onto the table, tearing the hem of her dress and pushing aside the lace underneath. 

He grips her hips tightly, his tongue flicking, teasing. “I suspect we have another five minutes before the waitress returns.” 

She’s unable to respond, save for the gasps that leave her each time Hisoka’s tongue thrusts against her in just the right way. He covers her mouth just in time to stifle a moan. “Shhh, Machi.” He makes her name sound like a whisper, a lullaby of sorts. “Getting caught so soon will only ruin the fun.”

His mouth sucks and thrusts and swirls with more and more vigor, one hand tracing circles around her thigh, the other still clamped over her lips.

The pressure of his mouth against her ramps up until, suddenly, she can’t see anything at all, hear anything at all. Her head thrashes from side to side, her body rocking into Hisoka’s touch as ribbons of pleasure undo her, as her scream is enveloped by his hand.

And she feels Hisoka watching her as she breathes heavily, trying to recover and process what has just occurred. She finally opens her eyes to see his own glazed over with an insatiable thirst. 

She waits for him to ask her what her nen ability is. But when he says nothing, she understands. 

His eyes don’t read, _I’ve given you what you wanted. Now tell me what I want to know._

No. Now the deal has changed. It’s become, _I’ve given you what you wanted. Pay me back by not bringing up the past ever again, or you will pay dearly for it._

**Author's Note:**

> So . . . any feedback? I was really worried this wouldn't be any good because I've never written a oneshot before, but let me know what you thought in the comments!  
> I love this pairing so much, although it would never actually work out in canon haha.


End file.
